‘I mustn’t miss my train,’ said Catherine, when the church clock struck half-past six.
‘There’s half an hour still,’ said Virginia. ‘If you leave at seven it will be quite soon enough.’
‘It’s the last train,’ said Catherine. ‘Hadn’t the car better come round a little before seven?’
‘If you missed it, mother, it wouldn’t matter. I could lend you everything, and Stephen and I would be very glad.’
‘Darling,’ murmured Catherine again, concealing a shudder. She pictured herself after the unavoidable washing, coming down next morning to breakfast....
At a quarter to seven Stephen thought it proper to appear once more and converse during the few remaining moments of his mother-in-law’s visit. He had decided he would pick and offer her a bunch of roses to take home with her; if he wasn’t able to respond to hand-holding, if he wasn’t able, after all, to respect her, he could at least offer her roses. Virginia would be pleased, and his own conscience slightly soothed.
Catherine began putting on her gloves.
‘Plenty of time,’ said Stephen, seeing this. ‘It has occurred to me,’ he continued, ‘that you might like a few roses.’
‘How very nice of you, Stephen,’ said Catherine, who had planted every one of the roses with her own hands,—‘but isn’t it too late?’
‘Plenty of time. Smithers is most trustworthy about trains. I will gather them myself.’